Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-12-22
A STOLEN CHRISTMAS.
BY MARY E. WILKINS, IN HARpEs's BAZAAR

Mrs. Luther Ely stood looking over her
gate. There was a sweet, hypocritical
smile on her little thin red mouth. Her
old china blue eyes staI eG as innocently
as baby's, although there was certain
hardness In them. Her soft wrinkled
cheeks were pink and white with the true
blood tints of her youth, which she had
never lost. She was now an old woman,
but people looked at her with admirlng
eyes, and probably would until she died.
All her life long her morsel of the world
had had In 1T sweet SAVIOR of admiration,
and she had smacked her little feminine
lips over it greedily. She expected every
one to contribute toward it, even this
squat, shabby defiant old body standing
squarely out in the middle of the road.
Marg'ret Poole had stopped unwillingly
to exchange courtesies with Mrs. Luther
Ely. She looked aggressive; Eshe eyed
with sideways glance the other woman's
pink, smirking face.
"Tain't likely we be-" she said, in a
voice which age had made gruff instead
of piping. Then she took step for
ward.
"Well, we amt goin' to do much, con-
tinued Mrs. Ely, with an air of subdued
Ioftiness. "We air jest goiu' to hev a
little Christmas tree for the children.
Fiora's goin' to git q few things. She
says there's very nice 'sortment up to
Whites"
Marg'ret gave kind of affirmative
gIunt; then she tried to move on, but
Mrs. Ely would not let her.
{" 1 dun know as you hev noticed our
new curtains" she said.
Had she not! Poor Marg'ret Poole,
who had only green paper shades in her
own windows, had peeped slyly around
the corner of one, and watched mourn
fully, though not enviously, her opposite
neighbor lacking up those elegant Not
tingham lace draperies, and finally tying
them back with bows of red ribbon.
Marg'ret would have given much to have
secuted scornfully the idea, but she was
an honest old woman, if not sweet one.
eyes, / see EN- said she, shortly.
'Don't you think they're pretty?"
"WelI 'nough," replied Marg'ret, with
another honest rigor.
''They cost considerable. I told Flora [
thought she was kind of extravaganza; but
then Sam's arnin' pretty good wages. [
dun know but they may jest as we'll hev
things. Them white cotton curtains
looked dreadful kind of gone by
Marg'ret thought of her green paper
ones. She did not hate this other old
woman; she at once admired and despised
her; and this admiration of one whom she
despised made her angry with herself and
ashamed. She was never at her ease wit h
Mrs. Luther Ely.
Mrs. Ely had run out of her house on
purpose to intercept her and impress her
with her latest grandeur-the curtains and
the Christmas tree. She was sure of it.
Still she looked with fine appreciation at
the others delicate p1nky face, her lace
cap adorned with purple ribbons, her
black gown with a founce around the
bottom. The gown was rusty, but Mar
garet did not notice that; her own was
only a chocolate calico. Black wool of
an afternoon was sumptuous to her. She
thought how genteel she looked liz it..
Mrs. Ely still retained her slim, long
WASTED effect. Marg'ret had lost every
sign of youthful grace; she was solidly
square and stout.
Mrs. Ely had run out, IN her haste,
without a shawl; indeed, the wealth
er was almost warm enough to go
without one. 1t was only week before
Christmas, but there was no snow, and
the grass was quite bright III places.
There we're green lights over in the field,
and also in the house yards. There was
soft dampness in the air, which brought
spring to mind. It almost seemed as if
one by listening intently might hear frogs
or bluebirds.
Now Marg'ret stepped resolutely across
the street to her little house, which was
shingled, but not painted, except on the
front. Some one had painted that red
many years before.
Mrs. Ely, standing before her glossy
white cottage, which had even eat lit
tie hood over its front door, cried pat
ronizingly, after her once again.
"I'm comm over to see you as soon as
kim" said she, carter Christmas. We
air dretful busy now"
''WeIl, come when ye kim Marg'ret re-
sponded, shortly. Then she entered be-
tween the lilac bushes, and shut the door
with a bang.
Even out in the yard she had heard
shrill clrmor of chileren's voices from the
house, Shen she stood In the little entry
it was deafening.
"Them chiIeren is raisin'a CAIN" NUT
tered she. Then she opened the door of
the room where they were. There were
three of them in q little group near the
window. Their round yellow heads bob
bed, their fat little legs and arms swung
wildly. Granny! granny" shouted they.
For the land sake, don't make such a
racket! Mis- Ely kin hear you over TO
her house," said Marg'ret.
"Untie US. Amt ye goin' TO unite us
now? Say, Granny"
''Tll unite ye jest as soon as I kin get
my things off. Stop hollerin.'"
In the ceiling were fixed three stout
hooks. A strong rope was tied around
each chlld's waist, and the two ends fas-
tened securely around hook. The ropes
were long enough to allow the children
free range of the room, but they kept
them just short of one dangerous point
the stove. The stove was the fiery dragon
which haunted Marg'ret's life. Many a
night did she dream that one of these lit
tie cotton petticoats had whisked too near
it, and the flames were roaring up around
a little yellow head. Many a day, when
away from home, the same dreadful pic
lures had doomed out before her eyes: her
lively fancy had united these stout knots,
and she had hurried home in panic.
MarC'ret took off her hood and shawl